Prisoner of Azkaban
by Padfoot-Moony-Pronglet
Summary: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban from Sirius Black's POV. One Shot


AN: Written in response to DreamsofPurpleRoses request.

Canon – within Canon Universe

Disclaimer - HP belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Prisoner Of Azkaban

A week after I had finally managed to escape Azkaban Prison, I found myself in Little Whinging, Surrey, desperate for a glimpse of my godson, Harry James Potter. Of course, I had only managed to escape once I realised exactly where the traitor, Peter Pettigrew, also previously known to me as Wormtail, would be heading. The thought of Pettigrew within harming distance of Harry, small, vulnerable Harry would not rest, continued haunting me, until the need to protect baby Harry was so strong that I managed to maintain my Animagus form – a dog – long enough to slip through the bars of my wall and attempt, and surprisingly succeed escaping the "unbreakable" Azkaban.

My need to protect Harry, to see that he was alright sustained me until I reached mainland, and then motivated me to go searching for him. I had images flashing through my head, of Harry - a small, chubby baby, using the bars of his crib to hold himself up, crying out for his "mama" and "papa", with his unanswered cries quickly increasing in volume – and the thought of _why_ Harry's cries were unanswered – James' unnaturally still body laying on the ground, his hazel eyes open but dead, blank, without life and Lily's body lying on the ground near Harry's crib, her body lifeless as her beloved husband's. These flickered through my mind, causing renewed grief in me, only subdued with the thought of my self-imposed mission

By the time I found myself in Little Whinging, a week had passed in freedom. The week had consisted of finding little helpings of food, and once I had managed to clear my head slightly. I thought back on where Rubeus Hagrid, known to me as the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had mentioned placing little Harry with his maternal Aunt and her husband and son. It took me several hours to finally recall exactly where they lived as not only had I previously regarded that as unnecessary, useless information but also because my time in that _place_ had limited the amount of recall I retained in regards to most of my memories, needless to say, only the _good_, pleasant memories that an individual would struggle with all their hearts and minds to ingrain within themselves would be forcibly forgotten due to extensive periods in the presence of the Dementors of Azkaban.

As such, I found myself in Little Whinging, staring, from the shadows of the evening, in amazement and wonder at my godson, for the first time in twelve years. _He had grown _so_ much!_ I didn't realise it until then, but most of me was expecting the small baby Harry that I regretted leaving to Hagrid. As I watched, I observed, but did not take in, that the small – were all thirteen year old boys that small? – boy was lugging a trunk that seemed larger than himself behind him, until he sat down, in Magnolia Crescent, apparently tired of dragging it, and seemed deep in thought.

A number of fleeting emotions were expressed over Harry's thin face of which included anger, panic and then a glint came to take place in Harry's vivid jade eyes, once which I instantly recognised, as it was a common feature in James' features. However, I was slightly taken aback by seeing that James-reminiscent glint in Harry's Lily green eyes, as her stern gaze was usually narrowed onto James' eyes whenever that glint was present. In my shock and awe of seeing Harry, and his growth from a baby to the young boy he was presently, I stepped slightly out of the shadows, still mostly hidden. However, it must have been enough for Harry to be able to sense my presence as he stiffened and looked directly in my direction. I regained my senses and stood stone-still, hoping to camouflage my large, jet black, grim-like, dog form into the shadows. Harry glanced suspiciously around where I was hiding, and after a short, tense moment, he lighted his wand with a quiet, _Lumos_. It took me a moment to realise – _after _I had panicked over him being able to see me better – why the act in itself was so strange. Harry was an underage wizard, and as such he was not allowed, by Ministry decree, to use magic outside of school – The Underage Sorcery Act. However, I was unable to ponder on the peculiarity of the action as Harry suddenly looked directly in my eyes, and stumbled back in shock and fright, the latter which sent a pang of hurt through me, but that I dismissed.

For a single, frightening moment, I thought that Harry knew of the crimes I had committed, and held them against me, until I realised I was in my dog form, and that unless Remus had had contact with Harry, he would not know of this. For some reason it did not enter my head that Remus _could_ have had contact with Harry while I was imprisoned in Azkaban. It felt like that since I had been locked up, and my life had stopped, the back of my mind assumed everyone else's had too, and thus that Remus had not had any contact with Harry because I had not.

Moments later, the Knight Bus unexpectedly stopped in front of Harry, hiding him from view, and thus I slipped into the shadows and headed off, in the direction of Hogwarts. I knew Pettigrew would end up there, and that it would take me time to inconspicuously arrive at my destination, and thus a head start would not hurt. I also distinctly recalled that the article had said that the family had gone abroad, and thus unless I wanted to be going from country to country and then back, I would be better off just going to Hogwarts and biding my time.

Throughout the Hogwarts school year, I mostly remained in the Forbidden Forest, and occasionally I entered the Shrieking Shack. I tried to avoid the Shack as much as possible, as it brought back many happy memories, but the people associated with the memories either brought back pain, guilt, longing, hatred or betrayal.

I managed to make friends with a pet of a student's, a cat, something I found incredibly ironic. The cat had thick, fluffy ginger fur, and despite being initially incredibly suspicious of me, once it had seen me transform into a human, and I had managed to communicate my intentions regarding a certain _rat_, it decided to help me.

The cat gave me information occasionally, and I found out that the rat was sleeping _next_ to Harry's bed, as it belonged to a roommate of Harry's. I grew worried, anxious, irrational at the thought of Pettigrew being so close to Harry. Hours after I found this information out, I saw Hagrid preparing the large pumpkins for the annual Halloween feast decorations, and realised the significance of the date. It increased the grief I was feeling, particularly as this was the first anniversary of James and Lily's deaths that I was free to mourn – in Azkaban, one doesn't know the date or time, only that it is a certain meal of a day by the 'meals' given. It was so dark, gloomy and cold as there were no windows and as such no sunlight shone through, making the Dementor's presence all the more strong. Instead of allowing myself to feel the pain of their deaths, I turned it into anger for Pettigrew, and thus hatched a plan within the hour, to execute during the feast. I estimated the feast to start approximately an hour after dark (AN: winter and all, therefore evening is earlier). Thus, with the help of the cat, I entered the castle, unnoticed in my Animagus form. Very close to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, I found a small corner in which there were now portraits looking on, I transformed back into my human form, and tried to get into the tower.

I approached the Fat Lady, and demanded, "Let me in."

She had her eyes closed, as if she was resting, and then said, "No password, no entrance."

In my haste, I had forgotten the need for a password, but by then, I was desperate, beyond point of rationality. I grew angry, "Open the portrait, _now._"

"I said – " She cut-off mid-sentence as she opened her eyes in anger at being disturbed, which quickly transformed into fear, particularly as I had drawn out a knife. I was frantic, needing to kill Peter for revenge, while also trying to remain unseen, and thus, not have Dementors inflicted on me again.

I had kept the knife on me, just in case I was caught by Aurors. I had no wand, and thus felt extremely vulnerable. I got my hands on a knife in a Muggle household, as I preferred to stay away from the wizarding world, to prevent an increase in the likeliness of being caught.

In my anger and irrationality, I brought my arm up, as if I would say a spell, but noticed the knife, and brought it down, slashing through the portrait. As I did so, The Fat Lady screeched loudly, and rushed out of the Portrait. In my fury at not being able to avenge my best friend and his wife's deaths by killing the traitor, I slashed the knife through the portrait once again. Then, I quickly ran into the same corner to transform back.

I realised later, much later, when I had managed to retain even an ounce more of my sanity, just how impulsive my actions had been as I had not even ensured that there were no ghosts present, observing my transformation, and resulting in my capture. However, my very limited luck sustained me until I managed to escape, using the Honeydukes tunnel, as I feared that the front gate would be closed and locked by then, once the alarm was raised.

After that, for some time, I was on edge, anxious that my attempt at reaching for Pettigrew would reach his ears, and thus encourage him to escape, to where I would not be able to find him, and thus be unable to commit the crime I had been convicted for. However, the cat had reassured me, that as of yet, the rat had not moved, despite looking unwell. _As he should_.

I stayed within the Forbidden Forest mostly, unless, there was the occasional uproar on the Quidditch pitch. Sometimes I attended the matches, as they were a part of something I vaguely recalled from my own days at Hogwarts, the matches between houses, and as it stirred within me a desire to reminisce about a sport I had previously loved, and still did, I went, hiding in the shadows to watch. The first match was days after my attempt to get into Gryffindor Tower. The pitch was a blur of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff colours. Harry reminded me so much of James. His skill on a broom, as well as his features, with the exception of his eyes, was all James. However, I realised, harshly, the distinction evident in the two, when during one of the matches, the Dementors were attracted to the pitch, whether because of the familiarity of my dog form or because they were starved for happy emotions, I didn't know, but they affected Harry horribly. They didn't affect me as much as they did in Azkaban, as I was slightly stronger, having managed to get a little food here and there, as well as being away from the Dementor's presence, and also because I was in dog form. But when Harry fell off his broom, I felt a heart-stopping fear lurch within me, and I couldn't do anything. I felt so helpless, and I knew, if I hadn't been frozen to the ground where upon I stood, I would have gone onto the pitch and tried to save him, wanted convict be damned. I had never been so grateful to Dumbledore when he softened Harry's landing and sent a patronus at the Dementors. I was desperate for the knowledge of how Harry was, but I knew I couldn't risk much. I did see, out of the corner of my eye, how Harry's broom smashed into the Whomping Willow.

A few weeks later, I realised Christmas was approaching, as my very short ventures near Hogsmeade revealed red and green colours and decorations. However, once I realised as such, I stayed away from Hogsmeade as it was swarming with Dementors.

But as Christmas approached, and everyone was out buying presents, the Christmas spirit was infectious, and I wished to have someone to buy a present for, to feel as if there was a person important enough in my life to warrant a decent present, particularly after years of being confined in Azkaban, and not having celebrated Christmas.

I decided on sending a present to Harry, but the question was, what to buy. It had been years, and Harry had probably been fed the well-known story of my supposed-betrayal. Thus, I couldn't let Harry know it was me. But I needed something that would make up, at least partially, for all the missed Christmases.

After sometime, I recalled the memory of Harry's last Quidditch match, and decided to get him a state of the art broom, The Firebolt. I knew I could access my accounts, as long as I was not seen. I managed to order the broom through Owl Post, via Gringotts, as the Goblins couldn't care less as to whether you were innocent or guilty according to Wizarding Laws, so long as you didn't steal from them.

I requested, through Owl post, a method of proving my identity so as to be able to access the Black vaults. They sent me a piece of parchment that was charmed to prove one's identity with a drop of blood, and could not be falsified. My identity could only be proved by Goblins and thus the post was safe from interception. They ordered it for me, and I requested them to send it to Harry, without a note. It cost a hefty deal, but I didn't mind.

A little while after Christmas, I made another attempt at getting to Pettigrew. I had finally managed to convey to the cat exactly what I needed, and he tried to get the traitor for me. He failed, as apparently the dorm was always closed, as the rat's owner caught on that the cat dislike it, and thus banned him from entering it.

I then asked the cat to get me the password for Gryffindor Tower. The cat brought back the entire weeks' worth of passwords, apparently from the bedside table of a student in Harry's dorm, as I understood it.

After that, despite the increased security, once again I used the Honeydukes entrance to get in and out, but this time I managed to get into Gryffindor Tower. I was more careful this time, went after dark, when the students would be asleep, and remained as quiet as possible.

However, as I entered the dorm in which Pettigrew was supposed to be in, I took out my knife, knowing that I needed to have some form of a weapon to be able to contain Pettigrew, as well as murder him. I went to the second bed from the end, and the boy had his curtains drawn. I slashed them open, careless in my need for revenge.

I glanced around for a moment, and just as I stood up, ready to look on the boy's other side of the bed, the boy awoke, his eyes darting to me, and then the knife raised in my hand, and screamed bloody murder, despite it taking him a moment to react due to his state of half-sleepiness.

I ran, transforming into my Animagus form before exiting the Tower, and went back to the Forest. Pettigrew had apparently caught onto me, and escaped while he had the chance, also faking his own death so that his owner would not be suspicious, and thus allow for him to escape.

However, just as I feared he had moved away from Hogwarts, I caught a scent of him on school grounds, and so I stayed.

During my stay, I watched a couple of Quidditch matches, while on the lookout for any sign of Pettigrew. My need for revenge consumed me, contaminating any thought I had. I remained on guard, and had the cat do so too.

Finally, after weeks and weeks of little to no sign, whether sight or scent, I finally smelt him, coming out of Hagrid's hut. (AN: Sirius could tell because of scents) I couldn't see him, or the scents around him. I recognised Pettigrew's attempts at escaping the boy's clutch, as he could smell my scent, and thus was aware that I was very near. Very, very near. I could smell his fear. Apparently, Pettigrew grew desperate, and bit his owner, or that was what I gathered, while in my dog form and consumed by the emotions anger, hatred and betrayal coursing through me.

The rat's owner hissed, " – OUCH! He bit me!"

A girl said something that I didn't catch as I was determined to keep my eyes and concentration on that rat. The two boys responded to her words, when the girl moaned, "Crookshanks!" I was then aware of the cat's presence a little closer to the rat than I was, and thus, confident that between the two of us Pettigrew wouldn't escape, I stayed in the shadows for a moment, despite it taking all my efforts to restrain myself from immediately bounding forward. The cat – _Crookshanks?_ – leapt forward just as Pettigrew escaped the red-headed boy's grasp.

The boy leapt after his pet, out of the invisibility cloak, while the cat chased the rat. But before the cat could catch the rat, the owner caught Pettigrew and stuffed him in his pocket, while the girl (who with Harry had ran to the boy) gasped, "Ron – come on – back under the cloak – Dumbledore – the Minister – they'll be coming back out in a minute – "

But just before they could disappear under the cloak, and make my chase even more difficult, I bounded forward, unable to restrain myself anymore, irrational with the urge for revenge, I jumped forward, out of the corner of my eye I saw a black-haired boy raising his wand, and leaped onto the boy's chest, using it as a spring, to gain more ground, but the force of it carried me too far. I rolled away, and then stood up, ready to make another attack at the damned rat. The black-haired boy was in the way, and I pushed him aside, while aiming for the red-headed boy as he was grasping his pet rather strongly. I latched onto the boy's arm, the one that was holding onto the rat, ensuring the boy didn't let go of him.

The other boy tried to grab me, but suddenly let go as I easily pulled the small thirteen year old boy towards the Whomping Willow, as it was closer than my hide-out in the Forbidden Forest. I pushed the knot at the base, and then passed through, dragging the boy along with me, keeping my eyes on the defector.

I made short of the trip to the room in which Remus usually transformed with the boy, and placed him on the same bed that Remus had laid on just prior to his transformations as I realised I had broken the kid's leg. While I did so, I took the boy's wand, leaving him unarmed. I kept the wand at the ready, just in case the rat tried to escape.

I went and stood in front of the closed door, waiting a few moments before transforming, allowing the boy to see my emancipated frame and my face visible, hoping that the sight of me would keep the boy shut for a few moments. I knew that the state I was in was nowhere near presentable, but I couldn't do much better while living in the Forbidden Forest.

I hoped that the boy's friends would come after him, as my _real_ friends would've done for me. Without getting a teacher. It would make my life easier. I kept my gaze directly on the rat, to ensure he wouldn't succeed in making his owner let him free, and thus ruining my chance at vengeance.

I was right as I waited a few moments, while the red-headed boy had began whimpering in fear at the sight of me. The boy's friends kicked open the door and ran to their friend, with their backs to me.

"Ron – are you OK?" The girl asked frantically

"Where's the dog?" The black-haired boy inquired warily.

The boy I had placed on the bed – Ron, I gathered – whimpered, in pain or fear, I couldn't tell, "Not a dog. Harry, it's a trap – "

The other boy interrupted, "What – "

The boy answered in a hushed, anxious tone, as if he were trying to get the words out as fast as possible, "_He's the dog … he's an Animagus…"_ as he was looking directly at me, causing his friends to turn swiftly in my direction.

As they turned, I instinctively croaked out, "_Expelliarmus_," at the two raised wands. However, I then glanced at the two, looking at them properly for the first time, and my breath caught in my throat as I found myself looking at an almost exact copy of James. With the exception of his eyes. Lily's eyes. That were glaring at me in shock that was quickly transforming into anger and pain. Harry. _Harry_. My godson. The one who I was trying to protect through all this, but managed to get involved all the same.

I couldn't look away from Harry. I hadn't seen him properly for a whole year, and before that, twelve years. I had to say something, and so I said the first thing that came to mind, "I thought you'd come and help your friend." My voice was hoarse, and was evidence enough that I had not talked in a long while. I couldn't help but allow for my thoughts to come straight out of my mouth as I said, "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run to a teacher. I'm grateful … it will make everything much easier…" I realised just as I had made the comparison that I shouldn't have, that Harry would consider it as me taunting him.

After all, it wasn't as if Harry knew the truth. It wasn't his fault that all he had probably heard was the story that had been told to the public, from Pettigrew's supposed perception. With me as the guilty one. But the knowledge of that did nothing to lessen the pain the thought of it caused me. Not that I wasn't accountable for James and Lily's deaths, I was. But I wasn't the one that willingly betrayed them. That was the only thing that had kept me going in Azkaban, in the presence of the Dementors.

Just as I had finished talking, as I trailed off, Harry's viridian eyes glowed with hatred, directed at me. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he started forward, just as his friends grabbed him, holding him back. I didn't raise the wand, not wanting to hurt Harry anymore than I already had.

The girl whispered frenetically, "No, Harry!"

Ron, however, spoke directly at me, "If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too!" The boy's words reminded me of myself so much. The sentiment of it I had shared between myself, James, Remus, and at one time, Pettigrew, when faced with Death Eaters. The friendship between these three rivalled in intensity between the Marauders, or at least, those who remained l_oyal_ to one another.

But the thought of harming Harry, the fact that they thought I was there to _kill_ Harry agonised me, but I knew I couldn't do anything about it, that they would never believe me, and that I did not deserve for Harry to think of me in any other fashion than how he currently did. If he knew the truth, it would only lessen the hatred and pain he held towards me, and nowhere near enough for him to tolerate my presence in his life, regardless.

I responded quietly, "Lie down. You will damage that leg even more," in an attempt to direct my thoughts in a different way. I had a mission to accomplish. And I _would_. It didn't matter what it would cost me, but the entire world be damned, I _would_.

The boy replied weakly, as he held onto Harry for support, as he couldn't hold himself up without it, "Did you hear me? You'll have to kill all of us!"

Again, he voiced the same sentiment, stubbornly, just as I would have. But the need to clarify that I didn't want Harry dead overcame everything else, and I replied civilly, "There'll only be one murder tonight." As the imagery of myself murdering that evil, damned traitor invaded my mind, I smiled grimly.

Only at Harry's snarled words, did I realised just how my words had been taken. "Why's that? Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew … What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

Harry's words, while taunting me, were not the emotional attack I would have expected, as the truth behind them was that it was Pettigrew that was at fault. However, his words confirmed my previous belief that Harry was told of the story everyone else thought they knew, and that he held me accountable for everything.

The girl attempted to get Harry to be quiet, as she said, frightened, "Harry! Be quiet!"

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared in anger and he fought his friends' grip, and lunged at me.

His words affected me more than his physical attack. Despite the fact that I didn't betray Harry's parents, I _was_ responsible for their deaths and I knew it. But it removed any of the weak hope I had had that Harry might not have been exposed to everyone else's point of view. Now, he blamed me, and would not see it any other way. His words reflected what I knew Lily and James would be echoing at me. In Azkaban, I had nightmares of them shouting, yelling at me, that it was my fault, and while deep down I had known that I wasn't directly at fault, my guilt consumed me in such a way that after awhile I had just started believing that their reactions would honestly be like my worst nightmares, despite knowing them better. Now, Harry proved my nightmares right. I was to blame entirely.

His physical attack at me felt like I was getting what I deserved for what I had done, and knowing that Harry was just releasing the pent up pain at having lost his parents at such a young age, stopped me from raising a wand at him, as well as the reluctance to do so as I feared I would cause him even more pain. I heard screaming in the background, while my head was spinning in pain at the hit it had sustained. Then I thought of the other boy, and the thought entered my head, _was Pettigrew still clutched in his hand? _Then I remembered the reason why I was here, that I was here to avenge my friends' deaths, and everything else faded away. This black-haired boy was stopping me from doing so. I had to stop him from preventing that. I reacted on my instincts, listening to that voice in my head that told me to do whatever I could to get at Pettigrew. I grabbed at the boy's throat, knowing that it would stop him from holding me back immediately, as I directed his attention at himself rather than on me.

As the thought of revenge consumed me, I hissed, "No. I've waited too long – " My fingers tightened around his throat, preventing him from breathing as much air as his body wanted him to. Then out of nowhere I felt pain in my stomach, forcing me to let go of the wands I had held in my hand. Harry lunged for it, but then Harry's growl caused me to look up to Crookshanks latching onto Harry's arm, but he threw him off, and then launched a kick at him when the cat made an attempt at Harry's wand. Harry shouted, "Get out of the way," to his friends, and then suddenly was directing his wand straight at my heart, his expression fierce. Both, the girl and Ron showed evidence of having entered the fray, the girl having a bleeding lip while the boy's face turned from pale white to a green tinge. Harry walked closer to me, and I realised it had been him that I had been choking, him that I had hurt, despite that having been what I had tried to prevent.

Harry's eyes, previously having been tempered by his anger, now shone brightly with the force of his hatred – _at me – _and I whispered, "Going to kill me, Harry?" I didn't doubt Harry's ability to do it – the motivation behind it was certainly strong enough, but his not having done so immediately gave me a little hope that he would listen.

By now, Harry had moved directly in front of me, and he was glaring down at me. His voice shaking, while his wand remained steady, he responded, "You killed my parents."

I stared up at him, knowing that I couldn't deny it. I knew it would come to this, but I didn't realise it would be like _this_. I also didn't realise just how much it would hurt to hear that accusation aimed at me, despite knowing that the entirety of the wizarding world thought the same of me, while the muggle-world knew of me as a mass-murderer. But this was the first time I had actually heard the accusation with my own ears. And from Harry.

I said very quietly, as I recalled James and Lily's bodies, "I don't deny it." But I couldn't help but try to explain to Harry about the truth. "But if you knew the whole story – "

Harry's eyes were tinged with fear as he repeated, "the whole story? You sold them to Voldemort, that's all I need to know!"

Somehow those words convinced me to argue my case, to try to get Harry to understand, to listen to the truth. I realised I really, _really_, wanted Harry to listen to the truth, and that sense of urgency, that _need_ for Harry to understand seemed to be the underlying tone of my next words, "You've got to listen to me. You'll regret it if you don't … you don't understand…" And Harry _would_ regret it if he didn't listen, if only because he wouldn't be warned about Pettigrew, and when Voldemort returned, he would be in perfect position to give Harry up. I was determined that I wouldn't let that happen – but I may not have any choice.

And I realised just as the words came out of my mouth, that I shouldn't have uttered that last sentence despite the truth in it. Harry would take it as me saying he didn't understand the consequences of my actions, when he had _lived_ them. _Of course that would make him not listen to me_, I berated myself.

Harry's voice shook greatly as he said, "I understand a lot better than you think. You never heard her, did you? My mum … trying to stop Voldemort killing me … and you did that … you did it …"

The truth of his words were undeniable, and I knew that I would not be able to argue my case further. He heard his _mother's dying words_ when the Dementors came near him. No wonder they affected him so badly. And he was right. Absolutely right. I had done that. I hadn't betrayed the two, but I _had_ allowed for them to be betrayed. I hadn't trusted Remus, and not only placed my trust in the wrong person, but had broken the trust of my one other friend, and I doubted I would ever be able to correct it. Especially, as I _knew_ he believed in my guilt. Why else would he never try to get me a trial? Why else would he never visit me in Azkaban?

Suddenly, I felt a weight on my chest, and saw that the cat was on my chest, standing as if he were protecting me. But I didn't need protecting, I should take what I deserved, without bringing anyone else into it, and so I muttered, "Get off." I didn't need another innocent dying for me or because of me. But Crookshanks was stubborn, and sunk his claws into my chest. The girl let out a dry sob at seeing her pet conspiring against her, with the mass murderer, Sirius Black. I could understand where she was coming from, what with the amount of information she held. But, could no one just give me a moment to explain it from _mine?_ Not once in twelve years had I had a chance to, and that was what ultimately left me determined to hold onto my sanity as long as possible.

Harry was just raising his wand, his eyes showing his uncertainty, and there was no movement for a few moments until there was a noise downstairs.

In less than a second, the girl was screaming at the top of her lungs – and boy did she have a set of lungs! – "WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – _QUICK!_"

I was so startled I almost jumped, as much as I could in the position I was in. I knew I would now be handed over to the Dementors for the kiss, but maybe, just maybe, I would get a chance to at least have Pettigrew captured. Even if it would be too late for me – if they didn't wait to hear the truth – at least Harry would be safe. But I knew that there was very little chance of that occurring. After all, if something of that substance was to occur, wouldn't it have already done so?

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry turned his back on me to face the new entrant. To my shock, it was Remus, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over to the boy lying on the floor, the girl near the door, and then to Harry who still had his wand aimed at my heart, and then to me. He didn't meet my eyes as he shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"_

It was successful, and managed to take away not only Harry's wand, but also Hermione's from their respectful owners. Remus caught them before moving into the room, staring directly at me, not able to meet my eyes with the cat still draped over my chest.

There was silence for a few tense moments, until Remus finally spoke, in a shaky voice that held suppressed emotions of shock, anger and pain, "Where is he, Sirius?"

Not only was I surprised by Remus' words but also his actions. I had thought that Remus had believed me to be guilty, but his actions told otherwise, as despite Harry having been armed against me, with me defenceless, he ensured Harry was no threat to me. His words also indicated the same, and that he was aware of the situation. I was astounded, and still in shock over the events that had occurred to fast paced that I was having some slight trouble keeping up.

Due to my parents' hatred of anything 'light', and thus consequently me, I had had to learn at an early age how to mask what I truly felt, my real emotions. As such I knew how to keep my face emotionless, and ensure that only what I wished to portray was portrayed. Later on, this became a handy skill when I became an Auror and fought against the Death Eaters, and also whenever I was attacked for who my family was, whether verbally, physically or magically.

I utilised said skill now, while I thought over what Remus' words and actions meant, and once I had comprehended that Remus knew the truth, I gradually raised my hand to point at the rat in the boy's hand, the one I had attempted to keep an eye on all night, only to fail. I was lucky that the rat hadn't tried to escape while Harry had had his wand trained on me.

The children looked confused, while I kept my eyes on Remus, wondering how he knew the truth, only to realise with his next muttered words, that he was still putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "But then… why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless – unless _he_ was the one … unless you switched … without telling me?"

As the realisation hit him, it felt as if a bucket had been tipped over my head too, as I realised that he had only acted so far out of the friendship we had had previously, and not because he knew the truth.

Now, though, he knew the truth, while staring directly into my eyes, and I was trying to get him to understand that I was sorry for distrusting him, that I wished I could take it all back, that I dearly regretted it all, and that I knew the fatal consequences of my actions, but that I was still _sorry_ and couldn't do anything to change what I had done.

In that moment, my eyes were beseeching him silently to forgive me for what I had done, for not trusting him, for being responsible for James and Lily's deaths, for abandoning him. In that moment, his eyes were begging me to confirm that I had not betrayed him, that I wasn't the one that betrayed the Potter's, that I wasn't the one that had turned Dark, against everything we had always fought against.

I slowly nodded, confirming what Remus' eyes asked of me, as I gazed into his eyes. Almost immediately, Remus had lowered his wand and had come over to me, just as Harry had begun asking a question, only for it to die out as he comprehended Remus' actions, "Professor Lupin, what's going – ?"

Remus had taken me by the hand and pulled me into a tight brotherly embrace, and despite my initial stiffening at the strange feel of contact after almost thirteen years without it, I relaxed into it. However, the moment wasn't too last long, as the girl screamed, "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

Remus let go of me, and turned around to face her. She was standing up with a wide-eyed almost accusing gaze directed at my friend. She stuttered out of shock, "You – you – "

Remus attempted to placate her, only to be cut off, "Hermione – "

" – you and him!" She screeched.

"Hermione, calm down – " Remus tried.

But the girl, Hermione, wasn't to be quieted that easily as she shrieked, "I didn't tell anyone! I've been covering up for you – "

Remus' growing desperation showed in his increase in volume as he shouted, "Hermione, listen to me, please! I can explain – "

But then Harry entered the fray, and yelled out, in a shaky voice "I trusted you, and all this time you've been his friend!"

I understood Remus' pain at that, and only because he had seemingly taken my side. It must have rankled him, hurt him to hear Harry say that, particularly as I recalled Harry referring to him as a 'Professor'. He must have had Harry as a student for at least a year, and thus would have known him well enough, at least it seemed so if he had gained Harry's trust.

I understood how much it would have pained him at the loss of that trust as I recalled my mistake with letting Snape find out Remus' werewolf status, and how that consequently lead to a huge breach in trust between me and Remus, and me and James.

Remus, despite how it had affected him directly, had forgiven me much sooner than James, but Remus' trust in me had shattered, and that had caused our friendship to be at a stand-point for months, despite the civility between us. James, on the other hand, had found it harder to forgive me, seeing as I had betrayed a friend, and for what? Revenge? It was petty now, but until James had found out what had lead up to the event, we had difficulty being even civil to one another. James had refused to talk to me, until he had confronted me once he had had enough and gotten the story out of me. How I had been sent over the edge by my family, the pain, the neglect, the curses, but worst of all, the outright hatred and disappointment in the older Black son.

I shook my head of the memories, and brought myself back to the conversation – argument – at hand. Remus tried to tell Harry the truth but it proved difficult as he was interrupted at every turn.

"You're wrong, I haven't been Sirius' friend for twelve years, but I am now … let me explain …"

Hermione cut him off, in an attempt to prevent Harry from being taken by Remus' words, "NO! Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too – _he's a werewolf!_"

There was silence, in which I seethed inwardly at the open discrimination that the girl showered upon Remus, who had done nothing but received the bite as a child, regardless of how unwilling it had been, and yet for years he was judged upon it, considered a Dark creature. But as that thought entered my head, I immediately felt a surge of guilt, for how was I better? Had I not, too, also distrusted Remus all those years ago because of how he was a werewolf? Hadn't that been what fuelled my doubt in my friend, my brother? Of course, it had something to do with how he seemingly was affected less by all the events and deaths that occurred around us, but looking back, I realised that he had only been trying to keep a brave face for the rest of us. He had always been the one that tried to remain strong if all the rest of us were falling apart. I had been stupid to doubt that, but once the seed had been planted it was fuelled by the knowledge that Voldemort sought out werewolves, and that there was a possibility that Remus had succumbed to the call of darkness.

Remus responded, albeit with a shakiness that wasn't evident in his voice but his mannerisms, and it was easy to see how the words had affected him, "Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead … But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." The last statement broke apart his calm façade, releasing an emotion that resembled shame. However, I was thrown off by just how much Remus' attitude suited that of a teacher.

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again, but fell back with a whimper of pain. Remus made a move towards him, looking concerned, but the boy had the gall to say, "_Get away from me, werewolf!"_

The obvious prejudice in the thirteen year old fuelled my anger on my friend's behalf, only to be calmed slightly as I kept in sight what the purpose of tonight was. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Remus, to see how he handled being talked to like that, knowing from previous experience that it hurt him immensely, despite the number of times he had been referred to as such. He had stopped dead, and with a lot of effort, and with his mask strongly reinforced upon his face, he turned to Hermione, and inquired, "How long have you known?"

I had tuned out the conversation as it drifted off slightly, my eyes only for Pettigrew, occasionally sparing a glance at Remus or Harry. I moved over to the bed, as I was closer in case the traitor attempted escape, but also because I felt as if I were exhausted.

The girl whispered, "Ages, since I did Professor Snape's essay …"

"He'll be delighted. He set that essay hoping someone would realise what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realise that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realise that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both." The girl responded.

Remus let out a forced laugh, though there was no humour in it.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not. If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd told everyone what you are!" Hermione whispered fiercely, her loyalty to her friends shining through, as she kept glancing at Remus, me and her friends.

"But they already know. At least, the staff do." Remus replied. I took that to understand that it was Dumbledore that allowed Remus the job, just as he had accommodated for him when he was Hogwarts age.

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf? Is he mad?" Ron gasped tactlessly. It was obvious that the old wizarding prejudices had been ingrained in this child too, though, not all of them, apparently.

Remus replied in an emotionless tone, "Some of the staff thought so. He had to work hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy – " His face was expressionless, though I was sure I had heard a certain emphasis on 'certain teachers' that I knew the others had not.

Harry interrupted, again, apparently to infuriated to keep quiet, "AND HE WAS WRONG! YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" Harry said while pointing at me, just as I had laid my head in my hands, realising absent-mindedly that my hands were shaking noticeably. I couldn't help but notice that Harry had seemingly inherited both his parents – but more Lily's – stubbornness.

Remus again reiterated, "I have _not_ been helping Sirius. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look – " Obviously, Remus had grown desperate for them to listen without interruptions, for he had thrown back each of them their wands, and indicated that he was not armed, to encourage them to listen to what he had to say.

The silence told of the trios' confusion.

"There" Remus said, his exasperation was evident in his voice, at least to me. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listed?"

"If you haven't been helping him, how did you know he was here?" Harry asked, a little calmer now, but no less suspicious. But at his question, I listened more closely, as I wondered the same thing, albeit with less curiosity that Harry, apparently.

"The map. The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it – " I was slightly surprised to hear of the map, I couldn't recall what had happened to it – I blamed Azkaban for that – but all the same, I was grateful to it, for now at least.

"You know how to work it?" Harry interrupted, with a tone of disbelief.

"Of course I know how to work it, I helped write it. I'm Moony – that was my friends' nickname for me at school." Remus' impatience was illustrated through his gesture of waving his hand, a sign of dismissal.

"_You wrote – ?"_ Harry's shock, and I thought I could detect an underlying tone of awe, was unmistakeable.

Remus, however, had no patience for minor details, and admittedly, neither did I. Hell, I had less patience than what Remus had shown. It was remarkable how many insignificant questions teenagers asked. And had I been in a different situation I would have laughed at the irony of that statement.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?" Despite Remus' words, he didn't sound smug, but as if he was stating a fact. Remus had always been the humble one out of the Marauders, keeping the rest of us somewhat grounded when he could.

As he had kept talking he had begun pacing back and forth, something he only did when he was nervous, anxious or about to confess something. As he did so, little dust patches rose at his feet.

"You might have been wearing your father's old Cloak, Harry – " Remus started.

Harry interrupted again, "How d'you know about the Cloak?" It seemed as if Harry was determined to question us – Remus – on every small detail, looking for _one_ thing that didn't add up, that we couldn't explain, and thus indicating that what we were saying was false.

I tuned out most of the explanations, only listening in when something like the Cloak or James was mentioned, or when Harry began talking.

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…" said Remus, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak you show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back towards the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

Well, at least we had finally moved on in the 'story'.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Remus, still pacing and ignoring Harry's interruption, which spoke volumes, seeing as he only did that when he had had enough of something – he tended to ignore the situation or person, until they understood otherwise or confronted him. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?" Remus' introspection was evident, as he switched to questioning what had probably been on his mind at the time.

"No one was with us!" said Harry, growing irritated at being ignored, and how Remus, according to him, anyway, wasn't explaining anything, just spouting out an explanation that, to him, made no sense, at least, so far.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast towards you, labelled Sirius Black … I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow – "

This time, as Remus was actually getting somewhere, he was intercepted in his explanation by the other boy, Ron, as he retorted angrily, "One of us!"

Remus, stopped for a moment, both in his explanation and his pacing, to emphasise gently, turning to gaze at Ron as he said, "No, Ron, two of you."

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" Remus then asked, calmly. At this, I perked up a little, and raised my head from my hand, watching the proceedings warily, but mostly kept my gaze Ron.

"What?" Ron said. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

I had a sudden urge to laugh hysterically at the question. That _rat_ had _everything_ to do with the way I had spent the last _twelve years_ of my life, as well as the recent months, and everyone except me – and possibly, Remus – were unaware of it.

"Everything," replied Remus, then asked politely, "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated, and then put a hand inside his robes, where he had, at some point, placed his rat. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on my lap, making a soft hissing sound, at the sight of the damned rat that had been eluding the world for twelve years, and us for the last few months.

Remus moved closer to the rat, looking at it carefully. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed at Scabbers intently. Not that I blamed him – despite the words we had shared as of yet, here was the proof of what I had said. It would set in stone the essence of the words I had previously uttered, that I was not the betrayer.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

Where I had previously let Remus do all the talking, I couldn't help but respond this time, before Remus could, "That's not a rat."

"What d'you mean – of course he's a rat – " The incredulous tone of the boy's words grated on me, despite it not being his fault.

"No he's not," said Remus quietly. I quickly, with all the subtlety I possessed, glanced in his direction for a moment, as he had all but said that he now believed me. He had implied something of the sort previously but that was without the proof. Somehow, this weighed more, even though I was grateful to him for believing me, without actually _seeing_ Pettigrew – the map didn't really count, after all. "He's a wizard."

I finished of what Remus was going to say, as we used to when we were both younger, "An Animagus, by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

There a few moments of heavy silence.

Than Ron bluntly blurted out, in a matter-of-fact tone, "You're both mental." Harry looked as if he agreed.

Hermione voiced her agreement with her friends, her voice faint, "Ridiculous!"

"Peter Pettigrew's dead! He" Harry pointed at me, and I shook in anger at the thought of how that rat had gotten the better of me, of how he had framed me. "killed him twelve years ago!"

My anger at myself for underestimating Pettigrew was evident as I growled out, allowing my canine instincts to rule over enough, "I meant to, but little Peter got the better of me … not this time, though!"

I lost control, and shook the cat off of me, as I launched for the rat, my eyes only seeing him.

I was hardened by my years in Azkaban and from the war, and as a result, I knew that when it came down to it, I could and _would_ kill him. He had caused many a misery, but not only had he gotten away from it, but he had framed me to take the blame that rested on his shoulders.

I jumped the boy, not really seeing him, just that the boy's hand was grasping hard onto the one who I was seeking revenge for the coward's betrayal. My ears were ringing with the need for vengeance, and I could hear muffled shouted voices screaming. The boy whose leg suffered under my whole weight yelled out in pain, while I heard Remus screaming, "Sirius, NO!"

And then, I was pulled back, and I had realised what had happened, but I was beyond the point of rational. I wanted revenge and I wanted – no, needed – it, _now_.

Remus tried to get me to stop struggling, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that – they need to understand – we've got to explain – "

I wouldn't be placated by words, and I conveyed to Remus as such, as the canine in me wanted revenge for the disloyalty of one who we had trusted, making me snarl out, "We can explain afterwards!" I tried to throw Remus off of myself, furious that he was trying to stop me from satisfying my desire for revenge. One on my arms was still extended towards Pettigrew in his rat form, who was beyond desperation, as he was scratching Ron's face, as he attempted to escape his fate.

Remus tried to talk me out of acting on my revenge just yet with his words, "They've – got – a – right – to – know – everything!" Remus panted out, as my struggling didn't decrease. After all, hadn't I also earned the right to attain my revenge after all my years in Azkaban, and months on the run? Hadn't I suffered enough, to have this small amount of satisfaction? Remus plunged on, desperate for me to listen to _something_, to _reason_, "Ron's kept him as a pet!" I couldn't care less about that. Yes, he would be upset, but wouldn't he rather know that what he thought was a pet, was actually a Dark wizard biding his time? "There are parts of it even I don't understand!" Remus' understanding could wait until after I had committed the act I was imprisoned for – after all, he knew most of the truth – wasn't that enough for now? "And Harry – " My struggling went down a notch at his name. "you owe Harry the truth, Sirius." I ceased my struggling immediately. I knew that at the least, for Harry, I had to at least ensure he understood. This was about his _parents_ _deaths_. And then there was the fact that I owed Harry much more than the truth, but as I couldn't currently do much more, I resigned myself to do at least this. Despite having stopped struggling, I kept my eyes on the rat.

I resigned myself to having to wait for awhile longer. "All right, then. Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for …"

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron shakily, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him looking around at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

He tried to lift himself up on his good leg, but then Remus took out his wand and raised it, saying quietly, "You're going to hear me out, Ron. Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

Ron had apparently had enough, what with the pain he was in and the nature of the strange situation he was currently in, and yelled out, "HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron was also meanwhile attempting to push _Peter_ back into his pocket, but the rat was persistently fighting, struggling, as if he were in a fight for his pathetic life – which, when one considered it, was almost the exact truth. Ron ended up overbalanced, and Harry had to push him back onto the bed.

Harry, spoke calmly, infusing as much logic as he could into his words, "There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die. A whole street full of them …"

The repetitive spouting of what everyone also spewed out caused anger to be instilled into my voice as I replied harshly, "They didn't see what they thought they saw!" The entire time I kept glaring at the rat, watching in case the boy's hold weakened and it managed to escape.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter," said Remus, nodding his head. "I believed it myself – until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies … Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

There was a stunned, disbelieving silence.

Then, Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Remus to talk sensibly.

"But Professor Lupin … Scabbers can't be Pettigrew … it just can't be, you know it can't …" The girl sounded as if her entire world was tilting on its side.

"Why can't it be true?" Remus said calmly, as a Professor would encourage a student to do so.

"Because … because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagus in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework – the Ministry keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things … and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list –"

Remus started to laugh, and had it been any other situation I would have laughed as I was reminded of Lily's intelligence, and her dedication to her school work. The amount of effort this girl put into her homework was astounding – I never recall putting anywhere near half as much in, and neither had James. Even Remus and Lily didn't put in that much effort – but they spent the rest of their time reading and wouldn't have needed to anyway.

"Right again, Hermione!" Remus said. "But the Ministry never knew there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

Remus was starting to slow down, and this was taking way too long. Remus had slightly drifted off, and it wasn't doing much for my impatience. I opened my mouth, but my anger and impatience seeped well into my voice as I snarled out, keeping my eyes trained upon the rat's escape attempts, "If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus. I've waited twelve years; I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right … but you'll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began…" Remus responded calmly, but then broke off as there was a loud creak behind him. I swiftly turned around to gaze at the surrounding area from where the sound came from, and found the others staring at it too. Then Remus strode over towards it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there…" Remus muttered, confused.

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Remus, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack is never haunted … the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his greying hair – more grey after so many years – out of his eyes, thought for a moment, and then got back to the story as he said, "That's where all of this starts – with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten … and if I hadn't been so foolhardy …"

At that I wondered what Remus was blaming himself for, before it hit me that one of the only reasons I had managed to stay free for so long out of Azkaban was because Remus had not told about my Animagus status, and that he blamed himself for James, Pettigrew and I putting ourselves out there for him – though now that it came to me, Pettigrew only did so with a lot of convincing. As Remus started his story, I tuned him out, knowing it extremely well already, and allowed myself to be submerged into my thoughts.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Remus, and he looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione said "Shh!" She was watching Remus very intently.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite." Remus started.

As Remus started his story, I tuned him out, knowing it extremely well already, and allowed myself to be submerged into my thoughts. I wondered at how Remus had lasted the full moons by himself for the last twelve or so years, and I felt a wave of guilt for his pain. Without James and I in Animagus forms, he would have hurt himself far more than with us. And I had taken away all those who could have helped him in such a way. Pettigrew couldn't do much, regardless, as he was a rat but also because he _faked his own death_. As such, Moony was abandoned, and I knew that without us there, he would inflict all the pain on Remus' body. I winced at the thought of all the injuries Remus would have sustained over the years, and then as I glanced over him again, I realised that he had had a very hard, troubled life in my absence. And then I thought back to the cause of it, to the thing that initiated all those events so many years ago, and my anger – no, my fury – at Pettigrew grew exponentially.

"My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The Potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform … I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me." Remus' voice was quiet, and gave the impression that he was ashamed of himself. I only took note of bits and pieces of the conversation, but as that part invaded my head, I made a mental note to talk to Remus about it later.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that, as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school…" Remus sighed, and while his tone indicated his gratitude to Dumbledore, as he trailed off, he sounded as if was resigned to the fact that it was his fault.

He turned to Harry, looking directly at him. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is it was planted _because_ I had come to Hogwarts. This house – " Remus looked miserably around the room, and his negative emotions regarding his ailment. " – the tunnel that leads to it – they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous." There was an undertone of self-reproach that I think only I caught onto.

Everyone, with the exception of Remus, and Pettigrew was silent, who was squeaking in a frightened manner.

"My transformations in those days were – were terrible." Remus' voice trembled slightly in remembered pain, and I winced in sympathy as I recalled Remus coming back with faint bruise marks and weaker limbs, usually exhausted after less-than strenuous activities, despite the amount of rest I now suspected Pomfrey had subjected him to. "It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour... even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…"

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black … Peter Pettigrew … and, of course, your father, Harry, James Potter." My ears perked up at hearing Harry, James' and Pettigrew's names along with my own.

"Now my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her … I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth…"

As this part of the story was told, as if it were whispered in my ear, it was like I remembered an old, forgotten, yet wonderful memory. I recalled the variety of stories Remus told, some of which were laughable in retrospect. I also recalled how James and I had started to become suspicious a few months before first year ended. It took us another month and a half to work it out, and then early second year we had confronted Remus. Remus' expression when we had done so had been devastated at first, but that had quickly changed to awestruck.

Remus' tone was laced with a small level of awe inspired from the memory as he continued on telling the story. "And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad, too?" asked Harry, astounded.

"Yes, indeed," said Remus. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school –" I felt a sense of pride rush through me, that was quickly stifled as I was reminded again of the situation at hand "– and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformations can go horrible wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius." Smugness radiated through me for one small moment, until I realised that Peter had his 'revenge' by destroying all of us Marauders. "Finally in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Remus. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James' Invisibility Cloak. They transformed … Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

The memories invoked by Remus' words were great and all, but the mention of Peter brought my anger rushing back, and I snarled out impatiently, "Hurry up, Remus." There was also the slight fact that Remus was getting off track in retelling the memories.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there … well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal – ?" Harry began, but Hermione cut across him.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Remus heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless – carried away with our own cleverness."

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other Headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally."

As Remus said this, I realised that it still affected Remus today. After all, he had felt guilty enough to not tell Dumbledore even now, while he had thought I was a mass-murderer. He held himself responsible for all of what _we_ had done, and we had never realised just how much it had affected our friend. I made another mental note that when – _if_ – we (or I) got out of this cleanly, we would have a thorough conversation about all this.

"But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…"

Remus' face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly, it would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to m. he let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am." At this, I shuddered as I thought of how Remus had lived while I had been imprisoned.

"And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learnt from Voldemort – " At this I shivered, ripples of betrayal ripping through my body, until I squashed them, knowing it wasn't really Remus' fault, that Pettigrew had framed me to look like I was the one responsible for everything. Also, hadn't it been my own fault for not trusting in Remus? " – that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it … so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

At this I was jolted out of my own thoughts, taking my eyes off of Pettigrew for the first time in minutes, as I turned to face Remus and snapped harshly, "Snape? What's Snape got to do with it?"

Remus glanced at me, before replying heavily, "He's here, Sirius. He's teaching here as well." Remus then looked up at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

At Remus' words, the first thought that entered my head was, _how did he end up as a teacher?_ From a mostly unbiased point-of-view, he was a known Death Eater, but I supposed if Dumbledore trusted him, and stood as defender to him in a Ministry trial, it would be overlooked. But also, from what I recalled, his personality was not one I imagined in any decent teacher. He had always been scowling, sneering, having snarky remarks and such. And if not to the older years, the younger years would have been frightened of him. How the _hell_ had he become a teacher?

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He's been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons … you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me – "

I couldn't help but let out a derisive noise, as I took in just how much trouble Snape had given to my friend, who had already experienced enough suspicion, enough discrimination. "It served him right. Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to … hoping he could get us expelled …" I had never told the others exactly what had been said prior to my telling Snape how to access the Whomping Willow.

Snape had not only insulted, but threatened my friends. He had brought up my family, and as it had been the past summer in which everything had come head-to-head, I lost my cool, and lashed out. I had regretted my actions for Remus' sake, but not the shock it had given Snape.

I did, however, regret how close it had gotten him to death. Despite my hatred for him, I didn't want him to die, and particularly not by Remus, who would have been executed if that had occurred. The time after had been painful for all of us, and had strained Remus, James and I's friendship. But it was difficult to show that, as I had always been a guarded individual, who rarely showed any emotions besides anger and happiness, and even those only among fellow Gryffindor classmates or those who I trusted. Azkaban had fragmented my memory, to the point that I only recalled clearly the argument beforehand, and the pain it caused Remus, and also how strained the Marauders' friendship had become. Not the affect on Snape, I couldn't even recall telling James of what I had done, which had resulted in preventing Snape's death.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Remus told the trio. "We were in the same year, you know, and we – er – didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James' talent on the Quidditch pitch … anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it – if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold, familiar voice from the wall behind Remus. One that I had not heard in many, many years, and if I had had my way, I wouldn't have heard anytime soon.

I turned around swiftly, only to see Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Remus.

Hermione screamed at the same time I immediately got to my feet on the alert while Harry jumped as if he'd received an electric shock.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the Cloak aside, careful to keep his wand pointing directly at Remus' chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…"

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did … lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus – " Remus began, but Snape overrode him.

"I've told the Headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Now even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout – "

The hatred for both me and Remus was evident in his eyes, crystal clear and was hinting at being so triumphant that he was beyond reasoning – particularly listening to two old classmates who he hated with all his life force. The taunts at Remus, at how Snape was planning on doing what Remus feared most – losing Dumbledore's trust – was grating on me, angering me, but I stayed quiet, hoping Remus, the calm, logical one, would be able to talk us out of this. After all, even in our school years, he had – _sometimes_ – managed to talk us out of trouble.

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Remus, urgently. "You haven't heard everything –I can explain – Sirius is not here to kill Harry – "

I let Remus do the talking, as if Snape heard it from me, one, he wouldn't believe me, not only because of my reputation of a mass-murderer but also because his hatred of me would cloud over his judgement, and two, because _I_ would let me hatred cloud over _my_ judgement and say something detrimental to my innocence – or something taken as such, which, with Snape present, could happen frighteningly easily.

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this … he was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin … a _tame_ werewolf…"

Just as I was about to lash out at the acerbic remark by Snape, Remus stood up for me – but as he did so, I took in how he didn't say anything, do anything, to defend himself. But he had never failed to stand up for a friend.

"You fool," said Remus softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin, snake-like cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Remus' mouth, wrists and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage at the treatment of my friend, of my brother, I started towards Snape, letting go of all my previous inhibitions in the determination to fight for my friend, to protect him. But Snape pointed his wand straight between my eyes, efficiently having stopped all of my movements, and his words, only further ceased any fight on my part, as I recognised that I was at his unforgiving mercy. The knowledge of this only increased my hatred for him, which was mirrored in his gaze at me.

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

The trio stood paralysed for a moment, until Hermione stepped forward, uncertainly, towards Snape. She said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape – it – it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

At that moment, I admired her courage, and her rationality. She seemed to be a very curious child, if when in the presence of a supposed murderer who is _finally_ restrained – in the trio's eyes, anyways – she asked if they could hear said murderer out.

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter and Weasley are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue._"

"But if – if there _was_ a mistake –" At this, I wondered if the girl had a lot of courage, or just didn't know when to stop pushing it. I thought it was a bit of both, from what I had seen anyway, particularly considering the effort she had put into _one_ piece of homework. If that reflected on the rest of it, this girl was one intelligent one.

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointing at my face, and I had to hold back a flinch – I couldn't give any satisfaction to Snape. I absently noticed that as Snape had begun shouting furiously, his way of talking had changed too.

Hermione had fallen silent.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at me. "How I hoped to be the one to catch you…"

I couldn't hold back this time, as I snarled out my reply, "The joke's on you again, Severus. As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle – " I jerked my head in Ron's direction, " –I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily, and I _knew_ I was going to hate him more for the next words that would escape his mouth. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…"

My face paled, as I comprehended what he was saying. Even the _mention_ of Dementors was enough to remind me of my time in Azkaban, but the thought of the kiss – and the fact that Snape was being serious – was enough to frighten me. There was too much bad blood between us to think that Snape would be even slightly rational.

But I had to try. After all, this was my _soul_ on the line. "You – You've got to hear me out," I managed to say, though a stutter came out slightly. My voice was no more than a croak, showing what little use had done to it. "The rat – look at the rat – "

But there was a mad glint in Snape's eye that I had seen very rarely, if ever. He seemed beyond reason, as I had thought before.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Remus flew to his hands. I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him, too – "

My anger for Snape increased beyond what I previously would have believed was impossible as he had just degraded my friend, and was planning on handing him out to the dogs, and for what? A petty schoolboy grudge? However, before I could act on it – despite that probably having been a difficult feat considering how he had me at wand point – Harry had crossed the room in three strides, and blocked the door.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been there to save your skin – "

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defence lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

I felt pride at the way Harry had stood up for Remus, and it was obvious the respect he held for him. Even before, Harry had not lashed out at Remus because he was a werewolf, but because he felt Remus had betrayed his trust, and thus his response was understandable.

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN – "

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck, you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black – now get out of the way, or I will _make_ you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

Despite the events occurring around me, I did find a moment to spare to wonder of the irony of Snape's statement. Snape hadn't thanked James 'on bended knee' and yet was demanding it of Harry, when it was obvious their relationship was not a particularly good one – after all, it was evident that there was much enmity between the two.

Harry, with extremely fast reflexes, had raised his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he yelled – except that his wasn't the only voice that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall and then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out.

Harry looked around. Both Ron and Hermione had tried to disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Snape's wand soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks.

"You shouldn't have done that," I said, looking at Harry. "You should have left him to me…" I meant that more than I could say, despite my shock, amusement, and pride at Harry's actions. But it should've been me trying to protect Harry, not him trying to protect me, regardless of what he believed of me. I was his legal and named godfather, the one that Lily and James both entrusted Harry's care to, and despite not having done much beforehand because of being stuck in Azkaban and on the run, I still wanted to protect and care for him.

Harry didn't look at me, and honestly, it felt as if he were purposely avoiding my eyes, something James used to do when he was uncertain about something he did or said. I could understand where Harry was coming from, and resolved to prove to him that he had done the right thing.

Then my attention was caught by Hermione. "We attacked a teacher … We attacked a teacher…" Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. "Oh we're going to be in so much trouble – "

I had the sudden urge to laugh about the girl's priorities. Seriously this girl seemed as obsessed with school as Lily had been – actually, possibly _more_.

Then I saw Remus struggling against his bonds. I bent down quickly and untied him. Remus straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them.

"Thank you, Harry," he said.

"I'm still not saying I believe you," Harry retorted, conveying that despite his actions he remained uncertain.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," I replied. I nodded my head in the other boy's direction as I said, "You, boy – give me Peter. Now."

Ron clutched the rat closer to his chest.

"Come off it," he said weakly. "Are you trying to say you broke out of Azkaban just to get your hands on _Scabbers_? I mean…" he looked up at Harry and Hermione for support. "OK, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat – there are millions of rats – how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," said Remus, turning to look at me, and frowning slightly. "How _did_ you find out where he was?"

I put one of my hands inside my robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which I smoothed flat, and held it out to show the others.

I had held onto that picture for so long now, as it had reminded me of what I was striving for, even when I felt as if that now that I was free I could go abroad, and start a new life. It reminded me that it was for Harry's safety that I was doing this.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers.

"How did you get this?" Remus asked me, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," I replied. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page … on this boy's shoulder… I knew him at once…how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts…to where Harry was…"

"My God," said Remus softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw…" I could tell it had hit him, that it really was him. Up till now Remus had not seen 'Scabbers' up close. Now though, if one knew what signs to look for, it was obvious.

"What about it?"" Ron asked defiantly.

"He's got a toe missing," I responded.

"Of course," Remus breathed, "so simple… so _brilliant_… He cut if off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," I filled in. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself – and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

As I said this, I recognised once again the same self-obsession most if not all Death Eaters held in Pettigrew. In his attempt to escape, he killed everyone within seeing-distance of his transformation to ensure there was no doubt about the appearance of the events. As such, he sealed my fate.

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" said Remus. "The biggest part of Peter they found was his finger."

The boy's instinctive denial about his pet shone with his next few words, as he tried to convince both us and himself that these were mere coincidences. "Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right – "

"Twelve years, in fact," said Remus. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We – we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Remus said, pointing out a fact, an obvious one. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…"

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" said Ron, nodding towards Crookshanks, who was still purring on the bed.

"This cat isn't mad," I said. The urge to defend the cat, the only being that had stuck by my side in recent months, was one I acted on. I reached out a hand and stroked Crookshank's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me…"

"What do you mean?" breathed Hermione, sounding slightly worried, as well as shocked.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't… so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me… As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table…"

"But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it… this cat – Crookshanks, did you call him? – told me Peter had left blood on the sheets… I suppose he bit himself…well, faking his own death had worked once…"

At this Harry erupted furiously, "And why did he fake his own death? Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

The last part of Harry's remark felt as if I had been slapped in the face, but Remus jumped to my defence, "No, Harry – "

Harry didn't let him finish. "And now you've come to finish him off!"

At this, I responded, "Yes, I have," as I glared at Scabbers, thinking of all the ways I could murder him.

"Then I should've let Snape take you!" Harry shouted.

Harry's words had barely registered before Remus replied hurriedly, "Harry, don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down – but it was the other way around, don't you see? _Peter_ betrayed your mother and father – Sirius tracked _Peter_ down – "

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry yelled. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP, HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

Harry was pointing at me, and slowly I shook my head, as I got a tingly feeling in my eyes, something I had once associated with tears.

"Harry… I as good as killed them," I responded wearily, truthfully. Harry deserved to hear how it happened, the whole story. After all, this had affected him directly. My actions had cost him his parents and he deserved to know why. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame, I know it … the night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies – I realised what Peter must have done. What I'd done."

It was hard to get that out, and it felt as if I wouldn't be able to finish telling this, particularly to Harry, who's parents I had gotten killed with my rash actions. My voice had broken, as my emotions caught up with me, and my mask had broken. It was so _hard_ to tell Harry how I'd gotten his parents killed while they had trusted me, trusted my judgement. And I'd been wrong, and it had cost them so _much_. I turned away from Harry, unable to face him after I had just told him how I had gotten his parents killed.

"Enough of this," said Remus, as he recognised that I needed a moment to compose myself. There was a steely note in his voice. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, _give me that rat._"

"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Remus tensely.

"Force him to show himself," said Remus. With a weak attempt at reassuring Ron, he added, "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron hesitated, then at long last held out Scabbers and Remus took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

I had already gotten Snape's wand, too impatient to be able to wait another moment. Finally, _finally_, Pettigrew would _pay_ for what he had done.

"Ready, Sirius?" Remus asked of me.

I approached Remus and the struggling rat, and my eyes were completely concentrated on the rat. I couldn't see anything else, but the thing that had ruined so many lives.

"Together?" I asked quietly.

"I think so," Remus responded, holding the rat tightly in one hand, and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One – two – THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment the rat was frozen in mid-air, his small, black form twisting madly – Ron yelled – the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then –

A head was shooting upwards from the ground; limbs were sprouting; next moment, a man was standing where the rat had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed, the hair on his back standing up.

He looked almost as bad as me, despite the fact that he had spent the last twelve years of _his _life with a family that fed him as much as he needed. But he had spent the time as a rat. I had spent it in Azkaban. But in the last year, it seemed as if he had gone through hell and back worrying about me coming after him. A years' worth of anxiety had left him with a ragged appearance, one that resembled an individual who had spent quite awhile in Azkaban. I felt gratified at that. After all, he should've known I wouldn't let him get away with what he had done, and the possibility of him harming Harry. Azkaban wouldn't be enough for him to atone for what he had done.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colourless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers' fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose, his small watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Frightened. Of me. Like he should be.

"Well, hello, Peter," said Remus pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. I wondered how he managed to remain civil let alone _pleasant_ to the traitor. I would never have been able to accomplish it. "Long time, no see."

"S-Sirius…R-Remus…" Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky – apparently remaining a rat for twelve years had side effects. "My friends… my old friends…"

My wand arm rose, as my fury grew with the traitor's presumptuous words, but Remus seized my hand around the wrist, gave me a warning look, then turned to Pettigrew again, his voice light and casual.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed – "

"Remus," gasped Pettigrew, and beads of sweat were visibly breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you … He tried to kill me, Remus…"

There was little to no conviction in his words as he tried once again to frame me for the wrongs he had committed. He didn't even have the decency to own up to what he had done, how he had betrayed his friends.

"So we've heard," said Remus, more coldly. It was obvious his patience was running out with Pettigrew constantly changing his tune. The strain was evident in his voice, but Remus hid it well, and I only recognised it after having known him so well years before. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so – "

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew shrieked suddenly, pointing at me, using his middle-finger, because his index finger was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me, too … you've got to help me, Remus…"

I felt a deep-rooted hatred for this sorry-excuse for a man, who in his absolute desperation couldn't do anything but try to save himself, with no care for anyone but himself. He had hurt, he had killed, he had probably tortured, many, and yet when confronted, he renounced everything.

Again, Pettigrew was attempting to ruin my life, and despite knowing that Remus now knew what had really occurred, it didn't change the fact that he was trying to get him to turn against me. Something I most definitely did _not_ appreciate. It would be difficult enough to regain Remus' trust, if I would ever get it – even if he didn't blame me, his wolf would, at the very least, for abandoning him, and for all the years thinking I was the betrayer.

Then there was Harry. Who was listening to all of this. Who had still not made up his mind in regards to my guilt. Who could still be influenced by Pettigrew's words. My fury grew, but Remus spoke, calmly but with an underlying tone of warning that I knew was directed at me.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Remus, and I took note that he said 'until', giving no promises that there would _not_ be any threats on his person.

"Sorted things out?" squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, and it was obvious he was taking in any possible escape routes as he eyed and took in the boarded windows, and the only door. His eyes kept flicking back at the door, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose, keeping me on my guard.

I wondered, not for the first time, what about him had convinced James, Remus and I to befriend him. His cowardice alone would usually push us away. And how in the world we didn't recognise him for what he was when we discovered what his Animagus form was. After all, the form represented one's inner personality, their essential character.

"I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

I knew he'd put his foot in his mouth as those words escaped as Remus subtly jumped on them, his brow furrowed, "You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban? When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got Dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He Who Must Not Be Named taught him a few tricks!"

I started to laugh, mirthlessly, into the silent room, my voice almost echoing.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" I said.

Pettigrew flinched as though I had brandished a whip at him.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" I taunted. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know – what you mean, Sirius – " muttered Pettigrew, in a pathetic attempt at denial, as his breathing becoming faster than ever. His whole face was now shining with sweat, I observed disgustedly.

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years," I said, cornering him. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters." I told him of my recollections of Azkaban, knowing that they would frighten him, because of the truth of them. "I heard things in Azkaban, Peter … they all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them … I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information… and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways … If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter – "

"Don't know … what you're talking about …" said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever in his panic and desperation. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Remus, looking for him for support, hoping that he hadn't already found out the reality of the events that occurred thirteen years ago. "You don't believe this – this madness, Remus – "

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," Remus said evenly.

"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban – the spy, Sirius Black!"

I couldn't believe the daring of this _traitor!_ "How dare you," I growled out, sounding suddenly like the bear-sized dog I had been. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter, I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us … me and Remus … and James …"

The nerve of him! Of course I would never turn on my friends like that! I would rather die, and here was the traitor who we all had trusted, and who turned on us when we would have given our lives for him! Pettigrew only became a part of our group a while after we had started at Hogwarts, where as James, Remus and I had been friends from the Hogwarts Express. That alone should have been a sign, an indication that there was a reason behind our reluctance. I had _trusted_ him, and he had betrayed us!

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"Me, a spy … must be out of your mind… never… don't know how you can such a – "

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," I hissed, with such venom that Pettigrew fearfully took a step backwards. "I thought it was the perfect plan … a bluff … Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you … it must have been the finest moment in your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Now, I realised that I had been over-thinking the plan, that I had been so cautious that I had actually led Voldemort right to Godric Hollow's. But I had honestly thought that I was ensuring their safety, that I had made sure they would come to no harm. But now I was directly responsible for their deaths, and Harry's parentless life.

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly, words such as "far-fetched" and "lunacy" being uttered, but his face was ashen, and his eyes constantly darting to the windows and door, and anyone with even a hint of observational skills would notice the way he radiated nervousness, and suspicion.

"Professor Lupin?" said Hermione timidly. "Can – can I say something?"

"Certainly, Hermione," said Remus politely.

"Well – Scabbers – I mean, this – this man – he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You Know Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?" Hermione's nervousness had shown at first, but then she was able to ask her question eloquently.

I had to admit, the girl was very thorough.

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Hermione with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair on Harry's head. Why should I?"

The absolute nerve Pettigrew had! "I'll tell you why," I said. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for twelve years, they say he's half-dead. You weren't about to commit a murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…" The cowardice of this small man astounded me. The lengths he went to, to ensure that his own hide was protected, regardless of anyone or anything else. He didn't have an ounce of loyalty in his body!

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

"Er – Mr. Black – Sirius?" said Hermione timidly.

I jumped at being addressed so formally, and stared at Hermione. Being spoken to so politely was something I'd long forgotten. In fact, I'd wager that the last time I had been addressed as such was either by one of the Professors when they had come to visit, unable to get out of the habit, or a Ministry worker, whichever had happened last. Neither of which could have occurred any less than almost thirteen years ago, now.

"If you don't mind me asking, how – how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I –" The way Pettigrew jumped at any question that delved into my 'lack of' innocence was ridiculously pathetic, as it was obvious to everyone in the room the way he had no real defence for his actions. It only attributed to everyone else's growing (or already embedded) belief in his guilt.

Remus silenced him with a look. I was frowning slightly at Hermione, thinking over the question and the answer. The question had again proved to be intelligent, and Remus' comment of smartest witch of her age was beginning to ring true in my eyes.

"I don't know how I did it," I said slowly, thinking as I spoke. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me … but it kept me sane and knowing who I am … helped me keep my powers … so when it all became … too much … I could transform in my cell … become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know," I swallowed, as the thought of the Dementors brought back all the feelings and thoughts associated with them – the cold, absolute freezing feeling one gets, as if all the happiness in the world had been sucked out, left with only one's worst memories and nightmares… "They feel their way towards people by sensing their emotions – they could tell my feelings were less – less human, less complex when I was a dog … " Though, the Dementors had still affected me while I was in my Animagus form, they had not affected me _as much_. Thus, even in dog form, I was being weakened, albeit to a lesser extent, and with the prolonged exposure, I could barely feel the lessened effect of the Dementors by the time I had received the newspaper article. But it had built up in me a fierce hope, and purpose. While the hope was sucked out of me – the Dementors had felt how I had a bit of renewed positive emotion, so they had stuck by me, as I was more 'food' to them, for awhile – the sense of purpose remained, and it had been what had allowed me to stay in my Animagus form long enough to escape. "But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand …"

I stopped to think for a moment, before resuming the story, still absorbed in the re-telling, "But then I saw Peter in that picture … I realised he was at Hogwarts with Harry … perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again …"

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but all the while staring at me, as if hypnotised by the sincere, truthful words, and the recount of what I had endured as a result of his actions. Despite this, I saw not a hint of remorse in his eyes.

"… ready to strike the moment he could be sure of allies … to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honours … So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive…" _…Of the danger he posed to, not only Harry, but the light side, too, if he was given the role of spy, again, _I finished in my head. After all, who would know to be wary of a rat? It wasn't as if Remus would be around all the time, and the rat would know to stay away from him. Why would Remus feel the need to tell anyone about the Animagus forms of James, Pettigrew and I, after so long, anyway? Only my escape would make him on his guard.

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it … it wasn't a happy feeling … it was an obsession … but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog … it's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused … I was thin, very thin – " I didn't see the raised eyebrow Remus sent me at the use of my past tense – "… thin enough to slip through the bars … I swam as a dog back to the mainland … I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog … I've been in the Forest ever since … except when I come to watch the Quidditch, of course … you fly as well as your father did, Harry…"

I looked at Harry, and was thankful when he met my gaze without looking away, despite my fear of seeing the rejection, the accusation still in his eyes. I did so, to ensure he knew that I was serious.

"Believe me," I said, and I thought my voice cracked slightly, but I was uncertain as to whether anyone else noticed, except Remus. My voice was infused with as much sincerity and honesty as I reiterated, "Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them ."

Harry nodded.

I was so thankful, so grateful. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, now that Harry had conveyed his belief in me. It didn't mean that he didn't blame me, at least slightly for my role in his parents' deaths, but I would take what I could get. This was more than I had hoped for before, what with Harry having me restrained and all, and his inherited stubbornness in not understanding what Remus and I were trying to explain.

"No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees almost simultaneously with Harry's nod, as though the nod had been his own death sentence, which, in a way, it had. Regardless of Harry's nod, Pettigrew would have ended up dead, but now, Pettigrew had no sympathy from anyone, no defender, no hope. Pettigrew shuffled forward on his knees, grovelling, his hands clasped forward.

"Sirius – it's me … it's Peter … your friend … you wouldn't …"

I kicked out, and he recoiled. I was disgusted by his lack of self-respect, and his loss of all dignity. "There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," I said.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Remus instead, writhing imploringly in front of him, "You don't believe this … Wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Remus. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head, meeting my eyes.

I was furious with Pettigrew for sinking so low as to try to turn Remus and I, recently reunited, against each other, but was grateful for the forgiveness evident in Remus' eyes, the understanding.

"Forgive me, Remus," I said, wanting to clear all of this, so that it wouldn't stain our renewing friendship.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Remus, who was now rolling up his sleeves. I was gratified to hear him call me by the Marauders' nickname for me. It indicated that everything between us was fine. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course," I returnbed, and I felt my face lift up in a smile. I followed Remus' lead, and rolled up my sleeves, too. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Remus grimly.

"You wouldn't … you won't …" gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Ron.

"Ron … haven't I been a good friend … a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you … you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.

"I let you sleep in my _bed_!" said Ron, the disgust evident in his exclamation.

Apparently, it wasn't obvious enough for Pettigrew, for he continued his grovelling, "Kind boy … kind master …" he crawled towards Ron, "you won't let them do it … I was your rat … I was a good pet …"

My loathing for him increased even more, if possible. "If you make a better rat than human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," I said, harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forwards and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl … clever girl … you – you won't let them … help me …"

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards Harry.

"Harry … Harry … you look just like your father … just like him …"

And suddenly the rage was uncontrollable. The absolute disrespect and lack of care for anyone and anything except for himself was astoundingly rage-inducing. I couldn't hold back as I roared in fury, "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY? HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

The coward did not take heed.

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling towards him, hands outstretched, "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed … James would have understood, Harry … James would have shown me mercy …"

Remus and I strode forwards, enraged at the thought of Peter pleading for mercy from Harry, using James' name. We seized Pettigrew's shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at us.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," I stated, shaking. "Do you deny it?" I asked because I needed it confirmed at least once by Pettigrew's own mouth. I _needed_ to kill Pettigrew in the name of Lily and James, but I was strangely reluctant to commit the actual act. Despite this, I ploughed on.

Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: he looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord … you have no idea … he has weapons you can't imagine … I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James." That statement held more truth than any other words Pettigrew had uttered all night. "I never meant it to happen … He Who Must Not Be Named forced me – " And all the truth he uttered previously was erased by that half-statement.

And this, more than anything, enraged me even further. Even now, he lied, gave away all his dignity, just to live for a little longer, as if his life was worth more than anything else, as if there was nothing else that held value in the world, except one's life. No such thing as family, friendship, loyalty or such.

"DON'T LIE!" I bellowed. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He – he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

The reason behind his cowardice only served to fuel my fury.

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" I retorted, fury etched into every line of my face. This was ridiculous – I had _known_ that he hadn't cared about anything except for his own worthless life, but _hearing_ it, having it _confirmed_ was another thing altogether. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

The way Pettigrew valued his own life above anything else was so pathetic, and it was no wonder how he had managed thirteen years as a rat. He had been taken care of, fed, had little to no other worries, and thus had _enjoyed_ his time as a rat.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" I roared, unable to comprehend how Pettigrew _could_ value his life above any other. How could he have so little care for his _friends_? How had he spent years with us, and still not cared enough for James to ensure his survival, even at the cost of his own life? James had stood up for him, protected him, helped him. We had _all_ done that, and yet, he had betrayed us on a level almost beyond my comprehension. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Remus and I stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realised," said Remus quietly. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall.

"NO!" Harry yelled. He ran forwards, placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands, facing us. "You can't kill him," he said, breathlessly. "You can't."

Remus and I stood, frozen in our shock. We were staggered by Harry's words.

I tried to explain calmly, but failed miserably, as I snarled, "Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents. This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die, too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban … just don't kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You – thank you – it's more than I deserve – thank you – "

"Get off me," Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off of himself in disgust. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't think my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers – just for you."

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Remus and I were looking at each other, silently communicating that, in all our pain and rage, we had not considered our late friends' response. Harry was right. He was so intelligent, for such a young, barely-teenage boy. Then, simultaneously Remus and I lowered our wands.

I tried once more, but I lacked conviction, and I knew it. "You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry. But think … think what he did …" After all, my one purpose all year had been to kill Pettigrew, only to realise when I was finally about to do so, that my best friend, my brother, would not have wanted this for me. For me to be so steeped in my need for revenge that I manage to get myself sent back to Azkaban for the use of an Unforgiveable. James would have wanted me to move on, and live. And I had finally realised that, albeit with the help of Harry.

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does …"

Pettigrew was still wheezing behind Harry.

"Very well," said Remus. "Stand aside, Harry."

Harry hesitated.

"I'm going to tie him up," said Remus. "That's all, I swear."

Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from remus' wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," I growled out, warningly, with my wand pointed at Pettigrew as well, "we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry?"

I asked Harry only to ensure that he agreed with that course of action, considering his disagreement with the previous one.

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor, and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him, and know that if he did so, he would be sealing his own fate.

"Right," said Remus, suddenly business-like, now that they had a purpose. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand and muttered, "_Ferula."_ Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Remus helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince.

"That's better," he said. "Thanks."

"What about Professor Snape?" said Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure.

I looked up surprised for a moment, having forgotten him.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," said Remus, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. "You were just a little – over-enthusiastic. Still out cold. Er – perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this …"

Remus muttered, "_Mobilicorpus."_ As though strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Remus picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely in his pocket.

"And two of us should be chained to this," I said, nudging Pettigrew with the tip of my toes, unwilling to touch him further. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," said Remus.

"And me," said Ron savagely, limping forwards.

I conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Remus' right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He seemed to have taken his pet's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottle-brush tail held jauntily high.

Crooshanks led the way down the stairs; Remus, Pettigrew and Ron went next. Next came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his own wand, which I was pointing at him, as a token of revenge for having attacked Remus the way he had. Harry and Hermione brought up the rear.

Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Remus, Pettigrew and Ron had to turn sideways to manage it; Remus still had Pettigrew covered with his wand. They edged out of the tunnel sideways, single file. Crookshanks was still in lead. Harry went right after me, while I was ensuring Snape remained in front of me; his head kept bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling.

As we exited the Shack, my mind kept going back to Harry. By giving Pettigrew up, I would be free. Meaning I would regain custody of Harry – if he wanted it. I kept wondering whether he would. Finally, I couldn't keep guessing what Harry's decision would be should I offer him a place to live with me, so I abruptly said to Harry, "You know what this means? Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," said Harry.

"Yes…" I replied. "But I'm also – I don't know if anyone ever told you – I'm your godfather."

"Yeah, I knew that," said Harry.

I had to hold back a wince, as I considered just how much betrayal would have been directed at me by Harry because of that. He would've thought I was a careless bastard.

I continued on, trying to push that train of thought out of my head, "Well … your parents appointed me your guardian," I said, my nerves making my voice come out differently.

Harry remained silent. His silence increased my nervousness, and my fear of rejection.

Suddenly, couldn't take the silence, so I kept speaking. "I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," I said, making sure that Harry knew the decision was up to him, and that he could refuse if he wanted to. "But … well … think about it. Once my name's cleared … if you wanted a … a different home …"

"What – live with you?" said Harry, with a tone of incredulousness. He was so shocked that he accidentally cracked his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. "Leave the Dursleys?"

Because of his tone of voice, I quickly reassured him, feeling rejected, "Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to. I understand. I just thought I'd – "

Harry cut me off.

"Are you mad?" said Harry, his voice sounding like mine when I had spoken for the first time in years. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

I turned right at him, completely shocked. I didn't realise it at the time, but Snape's head was scraping the ceiling due to my distraction.

"You want to? You mean it?" I asked, needing him to confirm it, for me to be able to believe it.

"Yeah, I mean it!" said Harry.

I smiled very widely, feeling something bubbling in my chest.

After that, I was content to remain in silence, knowing that the coming summer, I would have plenty of time to say whatever I wanted.

We finally got out of the tunnel.

The grounds were very dark now, the only light coming from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, we set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. My mind was caught up in the thought of Harry coming to live with me, for us to finally become the family we should've been after James and Lily had died. I thought of all the places we could buy a house – Grimmauld Place was _not_ an option – there was Godric's Hollow, but I didn't consider that for long, considering the memories invoked there. There was Hogsmeade … "

"One wrong move, Peter," said Remus threateningly, ahead. His wand was still pointing sideways at Pettigrew's chest.

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of me, his chin bumping on his chest. And then –

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. All of us were suddenly bathed in moonlight.

Snape collided with Remus, Pettigrew and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. I froze. I flung out an arm to make Harry and Hermione stop.

_Remus hadn't taken his Potion – he's going to become a lethal werewolf!_

Remus had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

"Oh, my – " Hermione gasped, indicating her realisation. "He didn't take his Potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run," I whispered. "Run! Now!"

Instead of doing as I commanded, Harry leapt forward, and I saw that his eyes were concentrating on his friend, chained to Remus, and I understood.

"Leave it to me – RUN!"

There was a terrible snarling noise. Remus' head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks' fur was on end again, he was backing away –

As the werewolf reared, I transformed immediately, leaping forward. As Moony wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, I grabbed Moony by the neck, and pulled him away from Ron and Pettigrew. Moony didn't like it, and kept clawing at me, and I retaliated, at the moment, my only thought was to contain him.

Suddenly, Hermione screamed, in the growing distance. I didn't have time to spare a thought for what was happening back there.

Both Moony and I had managed to gain a few wounds, but mine were more bloody, more painful. I was still weak after my time in Azkaban, and I didn't have much strength. In a fight, Moony would easily be able to overpower me, while, in our Hogwarts days, it had been the exact opposite.

Suddenly, there was a howl, and Moony took flight, galloping towards the Forest. By now I was severely injured, losing blood.

Then I heard Harry's yell, "Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!"

At this, I immediately scrambled to my legs and pounded across the grounds, scenting the rat as I went. I kept going further and further, knowing that without Pettigrew, I wouldn't be able to be free, wouldn't be able to keep Harry with me, wouldn't be able to be a family.

But as I kept looking for Pettigrew, I didn't realise that I was going towards the Dementors, until I felt their effects again. After spending so much time in the presence of Dementors in Azkaban, I was more susceptible to their effects.

They started in on me, as I was the only being in the area with anything remotely like emotions, feelings. It became too much, and the coldness was seeping through my fur, and I was forced into my human form again, giving the Dementors more leverage over me. My worst memories were brought to the front of my mind with a force I couldn't comprehend in my pain, and clouded all rational thought. I couldn't think straight as wave after wave of agony, sadness, pain, panic, betrayal, coursed through me.

I was moaning, getting closer to the blackness that was welcoming me into its embrace. "_Nooo … Nooo … please …"_

After I was awoken from my previous state of unconsciousness due to the Dementors, I realised where I was. I was in an office that was mostly bare. I was hunched over a chair, while sitting in ti, and then realised that the only forms of escape from said room were the window, which was locked, and as I glanced out of it, extremely high up, or the door, which was also, presumably, locked. Once I took this in, I realised I wasn't alone, as Professor Dumbledore stood in a corner, gazing at me, through those half-moon spectacle, and twinkling blue eyes. At the moment the twinkle was slightly diminished, though hope still remained.

"Mr. Black, if you would please tell me of how you came to be on Hogwarts grounds tonight?" said Dumbledore calmly.

I took in a deep breath, realising that he was giving me a chance to prove myself.

I told him all the story, of how we had suspected Remus of being the spy, how we had changed Secret-Keeper at the last moment, without telling anyone, how I had realised that it had been _Peter_ who had betrayed all of us. Then I took a breath, and explained how in our school days, we had all become Animagi (except Remus) to help Remus with becoming a werewolf once a month.

When I had looked up after that, I saw slight surprise in Dumbledore's eyes, before he concealed it with an even brighter twinkle, as he said, "Congratulations – and not only on becoming Animagi while under-aged, and by yourselves, but also on managing to keep it from me after all these years, particularly during your school years."

After that, it had gotten serious again, as I explained Pettigrew's framing of me, and how my capture had _really_ gone down. After that, I had explained what I had to Hermione and her friends regarding my escape from Azkaban.

Dumbledore took in what I said, remained silent for a few moments, before saying, "Sirius, you have not behaved in an innocent manner – the way you broke into Hogwarts with a knife, both times."

Any hope that I had had dwindled down, but I looked up and asked, "Does this mean you cannot do anything in regards to my sentence by the Ministry?"

"Sirius, Severus is the only reliable witness – they won't consider three thirteen-year-old teenagers, and will not wait until Remus is available for evidence."

Any hope that I had retained dwindled to nothing.

"Just look out the window," were Dumbledore's last words to me, before he left, locking the door as he left.

I sat silently, thinking about the fate I was about to meet. I knew that I awaited the Dementor's Kiss, and wished it was death instead. I had heard of what the Kiss did, and death seemed much more welcoming particularly as I would be able to rejoin James and Lily, and all the other friends that passed in the last war.

Half an hour after Dumbledore had left, I heard a noise outside the window, like the sound of rushing wind. The sound was so sudden that I glanced up – I had also heard something that resembled Harry's voice saying, "He's there!"

Outside, were Harry and Hermione on a Hippogriff.

My jaw dropped in shock, and I leapt up from the chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, before remembering that it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione called out. She took out her wand, still gripping the back of Harry's robes with her left hand.

"_Alohomora!"_

The window sprang open.

"How – _how_ – ?" I said, feeling weak with relief and shock, unable to take my eyes of the magnificent creature.

"Get on – there's not much time," said Harry, gripping the Hippogriff firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. "You've got to get out of here – the Dementors are coming. Macnair's gone to get them."

The mention of the Dementors brought me back to the present, and I place a hand on either side of the window-frame and heaved my head and shoulders out of it. It was very lucky I was so thin. In seconds, I had managed to fling one leg over the Hippogriff's back, and pull myself over it, behind Hermione.

"Ok, Buckbeak, up!" said Harry, shaking the rope. I figured Buckbeak was the Hippogriff's name. "Up to the tower – come on!"

Buckbeak gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upwards, high as the top of the West Tower. It was the first time in thirteen years that I had flown, and I loved it, despite it being different from a broom. It gave me a real sense of freedom, despite me still remaining on the run.

Too soon for my liking, Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements and Harry and Hermione slid off him at once.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," panted Harry. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you've gone."

Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" I asked urgently. The trio seemed like the Marauders, and we would never have left one behind unless it was forced.

"He's going to be OK – he's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick – go!"

But I couldn't stop staring at Harry, disregarding his words.

I couldn't leave without expressing my gratitude to him. He didn't have any obligation to do half of what he had, and yet he did so. I had promised him another home, and now I was unable to provide it, yet he still helped free me from a fate worse than death.

"How can I ever thank – "

"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted together, and I felt their need for urgency, so I wheeled Buckbeak around, ready for flight again.

"We'll see each other again," I promised. "You are – truly your father's son, Harry …"

I squeezed Buckbeak's sides with my heels. Harry and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more … we were flying away, finally I could _taste_ the sense of freedom. I would go somewhere close enough for communication with Harry, but far enough hat security measures would be taken away – Harry didn't need to be 'protected' by Dementors.

We flew for a long time, as far away from Hogwarts as I was able to handle in one go.

A few days later, we had stopped in several places for breaks, but then as soon as we were able, we flew again.

When we landed, we were on an island, and I found a lone place to stay, where I wouldn't be interrupted at least for a few days. As such, I found food there, and I also managed to get hold of an owl that would be able to replace Ron's previous 'pet'.

I decided I needed to write Harry, and hoped that the distance we had travelled wasn't too bad for an owl, as from the short conversation I had had with Harry indicated that he didn't like his relatives much. I wanted the letter to reach Harry before he arrived at his relatives – I didn't want them to give him a hard time because of me. I also realised I should clear up a couple of things for Harry – the Firebolt and the glimpse I had gotten of him last year in Surrey. Not to mention, I realised, that Harry wouldn't have been able to attend Hogsmeade visits because of me being 'out to get him' and all.

_Dear Harry,_

_ I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they are used to owl post._

_ Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this falls in the wrong hands. I have some doubt about the owl's reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_ I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got round to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt._

_ Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I sued your name but told them to take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven – my own. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_ I would also like to apologise for the fright I think I gave you, that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

_ I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_ If you ever need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

_I'll write again soon._

_ Sirius_

_PS: I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

On a separate piece of parchment, I wrote,

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade at weekends._

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